


Song of a Broken Spark

by Dellessa



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Anal Sex, Child Neglect, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mech Preg, Medical Procedures, Multi, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Slavery, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3101987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/pseuds/Dellessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl looked dully at the mechs that came barging into their home. He was still numb from his creator’s deaths. The enforcers had come at dawn with the news that the transport had went down. They had been left in the care of their sire’s brother, Barricade. He made Prowl nervous, and Prowl was not even sure why. He just seemed...oily. As if he was up to something.</p><p>“There will be visitors soon,” Barricade chided him, “You need to be on your best behavior. These are important mechs.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ensnared

Prowl looked dully at the mechs that came barging into their home. He was still numb from his creator’s deaths. The enforcers had come at dawn with the news that the transport had went down. They had been left in the care of their sire’s brother, Barricade. He made Prowl nervous, and Prowl was not even sure why. He just seemed...oily. As if he was up to something.

“There will be visitors soon,” Barricade chided him, “You need to be on your best behavior. These are important mechs.” 

“Why are they coming?” Prowl asked, with a frown on his faceplates. 

“They are coming to see you,” Barricade said. “You must be good. If you aren’t I will send your brothers away as well. There are mechs that like...younglings like them.” 

Prowl’s optics widened at the threat, “They are sparklings. You are supposed to take care of us!” 

Barricade smirked, “I am securing your future. You will be provided for. Fueled. Given shelter, and maybe an education if you are lucky. I do not think that Blast Off likes his berthmates ignorant.” 

Prowl’s doorwings quivered in distress. “Please uncle, why are you doing this?” 

“I’m doing it for the shanix. Perhaps...if I get enough from you I won’t even sell your brothers later. Now get polished up. I don’t want to leave our guest waiting.” 

Prowl stared at the mech. He couldn't be serious. “Please.” 

“I won’t say it again. If I have to polish you I can guarantee you will not enjoy it,” Barricade snapped.

Prowl noded stiffly and hurried away to the washrack, fear making his spark feel like it was stuttering in his chest. Once inside he turned on the sprayer, and stepped under the warm solvent. His processor felt numb. He could think of no escape. If they did run away how could he take care of two younglings? He couldn’t get work he had not gotten any specialized training yet. He was barely into his last juvenile frame. On the edge of adulthood, but not quite there yet. He had lead a sheltered life. He realized that now. He had never been sent to a public school. He had no friends to run to. No allies. They had no other relatives but Barricade. 

He stepped out of the shower, and dried himself slowly, moving like an automaton. He slowly began to polish his plating until it came to a mirror finish. 

He was still in a daze as he walked back into the common area where Barricade was waiting for him. The mech circled him several times, scrutinizing his finish. “You look good. So much like your carrier. He always was a pretty mech. I think his lordship will like you very much. He has...particular tastes.” 

Prowl’s doorwings flicked, showing his distress. His field pulled in tight as it could go and his armour clamped down against his protoform. “I don’t understand why you are doing this,” he whispered. 

“I told you. It’s the credits. I shouldn't’ have to be burdened with your lot.” 

The door pinged loudly making Prowl flinch. The mech that came through the door towered over Barricade. “Lord Blast Off. This is the merchandise we spoke of,” he said with a slight bow to the shuttleformer. 

The noble looked Prowl up and down. He moved close enough to tilt the mech’s chin up and look at his face. “He is a lovely little thing. Prettier than what I was expecting. I would even say the image captures don’t do him justice.” He moved closer, his field pressing far too close to Prowl’s and eventually enveloping him. He reached out before Prowl would flinch away and grasped one of his doorwings. He pinched it hard enough to wring out a gasp from the younger mech. “I bet these are incredibly sensitive. Mmmm...I can work with that. Let me see his seals then.” 

Prowl’s optics widened, and he tried to jerk away. Barricade grabbed him before he could get away. He held Prowl fast with one arm around him, and reached down finding the manual release on Prowl’s panel bearing him for the noble. 

“Would you like to see his spark as well?” Barricade asked. 

“I would,” Blast Off Smiled, “Open up for me pretty mech, or I will open you up by force.” 

Prowl whimpered. He let his sparkplates open, revealing the blue spark beneath, and the clear film over it. 

“Lovely,” the noble said. He reached in, caressing the film the pulsating spark. He pulled a credit pad from his subspace, pushing it into Barricade’s hand, and before Prowl could react he was dragged close. The noble mech kissed him hard, pushing his glossa into Prowl’s oral cavity and twining his glossa around Prowl’s in a teasing manner. He didn’t say anything as he pushed Prowl back against the table, pinning him there. “No time like the present to begin your training.” 

The mech reached down, dragging a claw against the seal covering Prowl’s valve. The seal parted, and Blast Off ripped it off the rest of the way, wringing a whimper from Prowl. 

“May I watch?” Barricade asked, his engine revving loudly.

The noble laughed, “I like an audience.” He pushed one digit in to Prowl’s still dry valve. He rubbed his thumb against the anterior node until moisture finally began to gather inside the still tight valve. When he seemed satisfied he added a second finger, forcing the unused callipers to slowly spread apart. A third followed the second, and all the while Barricade watched while stroking his own spike. Prowl watched with dim optics as the mech he had trusted to take care of him witnessed his innocence taken. 

Blast Off thrust into him with little warning. The first thrust was slow, the ridges and sensory numbs abrading Prowl’s valve, hitting the nodes in such a way that his charge rose inspite of the terror he was feeling. Notifications and warnings flickered across his HUD faster than he could read them. He didn’t even bother, too caught up in the pain. 

Blast Off continued to pound into him, scraping Prowl’s delicate wings against the table. Prowl keened softly. It hurt, but it was nothing to the burn inside of his valve as the mech above him roared, gripping Prowl’s hips hard enough to dent him. Transfluid rushed into his valved dripping out onto the table when it had nowhere else to go. 

The flier moved off of him, leaving Prowl spread across the table. Paint transfers marred his finish, and transfluid dripped from his valve, but Prowl was too stunned to move.

Blast Off pulled out a cleaning cloth from his subspace, before turning to Barricade, “Like the show?” 

“Mmmmm...it was very hot,” the black Praxian smirked. 

Blast Off turned his attention back to Prowl, “Time to leave now, pet.” He pulled a black collar and leash from his subspace. He slipped it around Prowl’s neck before the young mech could react, and pulled him up from the table.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Prowl felt filthy as they made the journey to Blast Off’s estate. He huddled on the floor of the transport, where he had been ordered to sit, and hugged his knees to his chest, making himself as small as possible. Blast Off petted his helm like he was a cyberhound, and occasionally would pinch his chevron, making Prowl startle.

“Relax, pet. It is a long trip. My home is a distance from the city outskirts. We will get you cleaned up. I have a medic coming to see you as well. There are some...alterations I would like to make. You will look scrumptious once he is done with you.” Blast off jerked on the leash suddenly and pulled Prowl up to his lap, grinding their interface panels together. “Open for me, pet.” 

“Please. I hurt,” Prowl croaked. “Please.” 

Blast Off grabbed Prowl’s chin, and squeezed it, “You will open or I will rip it off, pet. It is not your right to deny me.” 

Prowl let his panel open, and winced as he was filled nearly immediately. The stretch hurt, hurt enough that it left him wondering if something had torn inside of him.

Blast Off let his helm fall back, “You are so tight, like you were for made for this, and so beautiful. You look like you could be a noble.” He thrust up hard, pulling a whimper out of Prowl’s vocalizer. “You WILL look like a noble when the medic is done with you.” Blast Off shouted as he overloaded, and by some miracle the transport came to a stop, depositing them at the door of Blast off’s residence.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

The medic that Blast Off spoke of was waiting for them as they came into the foyer. “Would you like for me to begin my work, sir? Or are you still entertaining yourself...my lord?”

“You may take him with you. I have pinged you with the modifications I would like.” 

The medic bowed low, and took Prowl’s leash from Blast Off, “As you wish, my lord.” 

Prowl was pulled along, and finally taken to a private medbay. It was well appointed, and left Prowl trembling in fear. He kept his mouth shut. he could tell that this mech would have no sympathy for him. He was pushed down onto a medical berth, and strapped down. He thought that the mech would put him into stasis, but the mech started working, not bothering to ease Prow’s pain. 

The medic slowly stripped him of his armor. He caressed the protoform that had been hidden behind it. “What a lucky mech our lord is.” 

His assistant came in, and gathered up the armour, and took it into another room. “Use the measurements to begin to create his new armor. His lordship was very specific with the designs he wants incorporated.” 

“Of course sir. I will get to work on that,” the young mech said and wandered away, leaving Prowl once again laine with the medic. The mech caressed his frame, lingering over the first panel the he came to, and pressed the manual release. Prowl’s spike did not pressurized. It stayed neatly behind the seal. 

He stepped away humming, and moved to a drawer, coming back with a smooth disc, which he fit over the seal, and slowly expanded until it filled the indentation. Something along the edges pricked the rim’s edge, and slowly stabbed through the metal like a knife. Prowl screamed until his vocalizer failed, and the only thing leaving his vocalizer was distressed sparkling clicks. The spurs cut through the protoform until they were fully expanded from the cap. They locked into place, dripping energon from the wounds they had created. 

The medic patted the cap hard enough to wring a pained whimper from Prowl, “Now then. We have much to do.”

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

“Chop Shop, let me see what you have done to my new pet,” Blast Off said as he entered the medbay.

Prowl was still groggy. The medic had put him into stasis once he had grown tired of Prowl’s screams. He stirred, moaning. He hurt all over. He could feel new programming settling into place in the most disconcerting way. He didn’t flinch away when Onslaught touched him. To his horror he found himself leaning into the touch and trying to spread his legs wider.

“Mmm...I like the piercings even more than I thought I would,” Blast Off declared, and tugged at the hoop placed against the anterior node. With each movement, or shift it would rub against the node. Prowl squealed when the noble gve it a hard tug. 

His attention moved on, flicking each of the piercings that decorated the wing edges, and the hoops pierced through Prowl’s chevron. “Very nice, Chop Shop. His armour looks perfect. Like a living piece of art. Perhaps I should display him at the next party I hold. Leave him impaled on a false spike and bound up for my guests to admire.”

“They would all envy you, my lord,” Chop Shop said. “Would you like to test his valve? His mouth? I made the alterations you requested. The pleasurebot upgrades. he could take a mech twice your size, or a minibot and please them both.”

“Tempting. Very tempting. Release him. I want to get a better look at him. 

Chop Shop released the restraints, and pulled Prowl to his peds. The Praxian swayed, but somehow managed to stay on his peds, if just barely. Blast Off touched him everywhere, from his valve to his exhaust port, before finally touching the plug the medic had worked into his exhaust port, and the glittering gem at the end. 

“This is so very...small. Do we have anything bigger?” He flicked the plug, and slowly pulled it out. 

“We do. Would you like that, your lordship?” 

“Bring some lubricant as well,” Blast off ordered, and pushed Prowl’s chest against the berth. “Stay there.” 

“Yes, master,” Prowl whispered, and gripped the edge. His frame already tingled, running hot and ready. 

Chops Shop returned with a plug as thick as Blast Off’s spike, and a tube of lubricant.” He stared as Blast Off spread the lubricant across his spike, and lined it up against Prowl’s exhaust port. He thrust in hard, spreading the port wide and sheathing himself completely. “Perfect. Your work is impeccable as always, Chop Shop. You may leave now. I would like to enjoy my slave in private.”


	2. Intervention

“Stand there,” Blast Off ordered, and Prowl obediently stood where he was in the middle of the ‘play room.’ The sols had long since began to blurr together, each one much like the other. Sometimes there was pleasure, and sometimes there was pain, but he was always at Blast Off’s mercy. His frame craved it, and the part of him that could think of such things hated it, and his weakness. 

Blast Off moved closed and attached a thin chain to the hoop piercing tight about Prowl’s anterior node. Prowl let out a little whine. He would have been dripping if there was not a false spike already in his valve stopping the flow.

“We have company, pet. I want you to entertain him.” 

Prowl’s wings fluttered, the piercings tinkling with each movement. “May I overload master?” 

“As many times as you want today.” 

Prowl followed, a whimper ripped from his vocalizer each time Blast Off tugged at the chain. But the time they reached the sitting room he was on the edge of overload. Charge buzzed through his systems, and his core temperature rose.

There was a big mech waiting for them in the parlour. “Is this your new toy?” 

The noble laughed, “It is, Onslaught. Would you like to try him out?”

“You know I would,” the big mech said, and took the chain from Blast Off. He pulled Prowl over to one of the large seating arrangements. He sprawled out, letting his panel open as soon as he was settled. Prowl knelt before him and used his glossa to to coax the spike before him into pressurizing. He sucked on the head, before slowly swallowing down the length of it. It made his intake bulge out, but he didn’t seem to mind. The slave coding purred happily inside him. This was what he was made to do. 

Blast Off settled behind him, toying with the rim of his valve. He grasped the false spike and slowly began to move it in and out before replacing it with his own spike. Prowl overloaded with the first thrust, moaning around the spike in his intake. They used him through it, and pushed him straight into another, thrusting in rhythm with each other. They thrust into him until overload hit them. They both pulled out spurting transfluid across Prowl’s plating leaving him a sticky mess. 

Onslaught purred in appreciation, “Come here little pet.” 

Prowl whimpered, but lifted himself off the floor and crawled over to Onslaught. 

“Turn around,” The mech ordered, and Onslaught grasped the jeweled plug in his exhaust port, pulling it out, and tossing it aside. He lifted Prowl, impaling him on his still pressurized spike. Prowl writhed as he was lifted up, and impaled over, and over again. His valve checked on nothing, and spasmed hard as he was pushed into overload. Onslaught grabbed his hips, pumping harshly three more times before he shouted his own release. 

“Done already?” Blast Off teased, and leaned over Prowl to catch Onslaught’s mouth in a heated kiss. Prowl was pinned between them, and he felt the spike still inside of him slowly begin to pressurize again. He wiggled, keening needily, and hated himself for it. Blast Off moved off enough to push into Prowl’s valve, making the Praxian keen even louder. He felt so full. Then they began to move in a counter-point, with Onslaught caressing his wings. He pinched the edges, and pulled on the piercings. It hurt, and yet made the pleasure all the sharper. “Please, master, pleasepleaseplease!” he heard himself babbling. “It feels so good.”

Blast Off sped up the pace, pounding into the mech beneath him. “Such a good slave, overload for me,” he ordered sharply, and smiled when Prowl did just that, falling limp between them as he was knocked off line.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Prowl slowly came back to himself. He felt disoriented, and panicked for a moment when he realized that he could not move...of not very much anyway. He hung from a beam, his hand and ankles bound by thick cuffs at each end, spreading him wide and baring his valve. His wings felt heavy and if he moved he could feel the weights attached to the piercings jingle happily. It felt good. He closed his optics, and let his helm drop back. The toys were back in place. New ones this time, wider and ridged, but not as long. 

“Good to see you have decided to join us again, pet,” Blast Off said, walking around him and watching with a critical optic. “Whatever should I do with you? Leave you like this, perhaps?” 

The toy buzzed to life, leaving Prowl gasping, and Blast Off smiling. “Yes, I think I will. You many not overload until I give you permission. Do you understand?” 

“Yes master,” Prowl managed to whisper.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Jazz stared at his commander, and considered protesting. He didn’t want to travel to Praxus. He had work to do. “What of my cases, commander,” he ground out, knowing that he was being insubordinate.

“They will be allotted to others,” his commander snapped. “Pack your belongings, you are expected at the transport within a joor. I don’t give a frag who your creators are, you will do as ordered.” 

Jazz glared, saluted them mech, did an about face, and stomped out the door, slamming it behind him. He made his way to the humble flat he lived in, and packed up what he would need for the trip. He fried desperately to calm his nerves, to calm himself, but he couldn't feel anything but an anger he knew he should not feel. He was going to help mechs, free them. He should be proud to have been chosen, but he knew it was only because of his family and not his training. It rankled. 

Finally he made his way to the transport that was waiting, and was greeted by a little, yellow minibot. “You must be Jazz. I’m Bumblebee. i’m going to be your liaison for your time in Praxus. i have the files on the case we will be working on.

Jazz flipped through the datapad, frowning. “I...wow. This is...horrible. I’ve never heard of anything like this happening.” 

“Neither had I. Not to this extent,” Bumblebee whispered. “We really need your help. We need someone that can get into their inner circle.” 

“I shall do my best,” Jazz said, and in the end it was easier than he thought it would be. He had a few acquaintances in Praxus that did not know about his familial issues, and introduced him to the right mechs, which was how he found himself heading over to Lord Blast Off’s home some sols later.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Jazz was not sure about this new mission, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t like playing the noble. It brought back too many memories. All of them bad. His hand clenched around the leash in his hand, it jerked on the leash around Bumblebee’s neck, and the little scout looked back at him in question. He shook his helm minutely, and pasted a smirk on his face as they passed into the home of the noble they were investigating. There had been rumours, and finally they brought him in, borrowing him and Bumblebee from the Protihex force. Jazz did not like to be reminded of his origins. He hated playing the noble, but in truth he was one and understanded how to navigate these waters in ways no other enforcer could. 

“Lord Jazz,” Blast Off greeted, “How are you finding our great city?” 

“It is a nice change,” he smirked. “Very nice. We don’t have such....interesting mechs there.” 

Blast Off’s optics lit up as they settled on Bumblebee, “What a nice pet you have. Do you plan on sharing him tonight?” 

“Perhaps,” Jazz demured, and let the shuttle lead him further into the house. They entered the the banquet hall and Jazz’s engine nearly stalled. There were mechs interfacing all about the room. It was a common enough sight in such a gathering. What was not was the mech kneeling on the banquet table. He was bound and impaled on a large, false spike. He was beautiful, and clearly in pain if the scorch marks across his delicate doorwings was any indication. 

“Isn’t he exquisite? He’s the best trained slave I have ever owned. I bought him when he was young, trained him up. Would you like to sample him later?” the shuttleformer smirked, and moved close to the banquet table. He picked up the electro whip that had been tossed down. He flicked it on, and lashed it across the bound mech’s doorwings making the mech moan, and arch. “Pain makes him just as hot as pleasure. That took the longest, I swear.” 

Jazz trembled in rage, but Blast Off mistook it for excitement, “Come now. Let me see you do it.” He pressed the whip into Jazz’s hand. 

“I’ve never been a fan of pain,” Jazz finally managed. “I have always been partial towards pleasure.” 

“Mmmm...I could see that. You look like you are made for it,” Blast Off leered. 

Jazz made himself purr, “I am exactly that. Perhaps we could experiment later...your slave between us.” 

Blast Off’s engine roared, “I would enjoy that.” He pulled Jazz close before he could protest and caught Jazz’s lips, kissing him hard, and pawing at Jazz’s frame. “I would enjoy that very much. I want to see you take Prowl. You would look good together.” He gaze grew hot. “So good I wish I could keep you too. Maybe I will,” he said, gripping Jazz’s arm hard enough to dent it. “They would never miss you in Protihex. You didn’t even tell them you were going here, did you?” 

Jazz’s optics widened up at the mech, shocked. 

“I’ve always wanted a noble. It’s why I bought Prowl. He looks like one, but you are the real thing, and your pet...well I’m sure he will fetch a good price as well. Mmmmm....yes.” He started to drag Jazz into the next room when the door crashed open, and enforcers poured into the room. Bumblebee stood up straight leveling a blaster at Blast Off the mech lunged and Bumblebee shot, the blast hitting the shuttle’s helm, passing through his optic and to the processor beyond. The large mech fell to the ground in a heap, the wound smoking. 

Bumblebee had hit the panic button. Jazz could have hugged him. Instead he jerked away from Blast Off and crossed the room to where Prowl was bound. He pulled an energon blade from his subspace and began to cut through the bonds. He cut away the gag and the mech looked at him with wonder, “Are you my new master?” 

“No, mech. You are free. You don’t have a master. I’m getting you free.” 

The mech’s optics dimmed, and Jazz could tell that the mech was glitching. He froze, staring off blankly into space. 

“No, no...” without thinking Jazz unspooled his cables and jacked into the mech. What he found was horrifying. The mech had no firewalls to speak. Worse still the mech’s systems were shutting down. Masterless he would no longer exist. The shutdown sequence had already began. Jazz frantically did what he could to stop it. His tank roiled as he was forced to bind the mech to himself. He had never seen this kind of slave coding. There seemed to be no way to untangle it from his core coding. 

He finally pulled away, gently removing his cables. 

“Master?” the mech said slowly. He quivered, frame hot against Jazz’s, “M-may I overload. Please?” 

Jazz looked down at the spike that still impaled the mech, and the lubricant the pooled around it. His spark sank, “Yes. You always can. You don’t have to ask that, Prowl.” 

Jazz looked away as the mech keened, throwing his helm back and gasping. It made Jazz feel both uncomfortable and embarrassed. None of this was right. 

::Don’t kill the nobles if possible. Blast Off’s mech had a shutdown protocol. We don't’ know if the others do as well.:: He sent over the group comm, and finally relaxed as he was pings an acknowledgement from the enforcers present. 

“Prowl, I’m going to help you down from there. Can you walk?” 

“I’m fine, master,” Prowl said, and lifted himself off of the false spike. He climbed off of the table, legs shaky as he stood before Jazz. “What do you want of me?” 

Jazz looked down at him, frowning at what he saw, “We need to find something to cover you. Do you have anything?” 

“Of course, master. Would you like me to show you?” 

“I would, Prowl, please,” they move out of the chaos and into the house proper. Prowl lead him to a room that was clearly his, and a room beyond that was full of clothing. Most of them were wholly inappropriate. Organic bits of cloth that would do little to cover Prowl’s lack of a panel. 

“Do you have anything...that would...ah...actually cover you?” Jazz asked lamely. He had never seen so many fetish clothes in one place, or so much organic cloth. The flier much have spent a small fortune in clothing his slave. 

“Oh, I do have one large cloak. My old master made me wear it when we were going out for visits. Are you going to make me do that too? I didn’t like it much, but he said I was not allowed to complain about it. I was only allowed to speak when he told me to. Sometimes he would have me pretend I was a noble like him though. He thought that was funny. I don’t know why.” 

“No, I won’t ever make you do that,” Jazz said, and helped Prowl get his doorwings through the slits int he back of the cape, and fastened the front. “There, that is better. Come with me. I have to check in with my superior, and get you to the medic.” 

Prowl’s wings fluttered in distress, “Are you going to give me more upgrades? Will I be online this time? I didn’t like it all the first time. It hurt.” 

“I would never do that to you. I promise.”

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Ratchet scowled at Jazz, “He’s a mess. I’ve never...I can’t fix all of this. Did he say who did the modifications on him?” 

“Blast Off’s personal physician, Chop Shop. I checked, he is in custody,” Jazz said, looking to where Prowl was offline and spread out on the berth. 

“Good, glitch needs to be put in a spark cell. I can’t undo the slave coding. I can make some changes that might make it more bearable to the both of you, but it is entangled to his very core. I take it out, and I might as well completely wipe him, there would be that much of his core personality left. I can lessen some of it’s effects, and I can reverse some of his mods. I’m not sure about the spike cap. The spurs have been in so long they have integrated with his protoform. I can cut it out, but I’m not sure if that would be safe.” 

Jazz winced. “Can you at least get him a panel?” 

“Yes, I can do that easily enough, and I can halt the continuous lubrication. His responses though, they have him wired to respond intensely to stimuli. I will put him under my medical care and see what we can do for him, Jazz, but you might prepare for the worse. Mechs like him...according to the law he is no better than any empty. He had no rights...they will euthanize him if he cannot be rehabilitated.”

Jazz stiffened, “He’s the victim in this! How...” 

“He has no free will. He cannot take care of himself. He cannot make choices for himself,” Ratchet said carefully. “Most would think that sending him back to the well would be a kindness to him.” 

Jazz shivered, “I will take care of him then.” 

“Jazz...even then. They will not just sign him over to you. He is nothing to you legally.” 

Jazz glared, “Then I will bond to him and take him home to my family. They think that this is just a phase anyway. They are mad at me, certainly, but they will take us in. We take care of our own.” 

“Hopefully it will not come to it then,” Ratchet said. “I will bring in a coding specialist and see what we can do for him in the mean time. You know...I will do anything I can to help you both. I don’t agree with the laws, but you needed to be aware.”


	3. Planning an Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N- No, this is not the last chapter. Y_Y Several more shall follow at least. Plot happened. =(

Prowl sat patiently on the berth as the scientist rifled through his processor. He was, aparently, a friend of Ratchets and knew more about coding than the medic did...but even he was not a specialist in the field. It was uncomfortable, but Jazz gave his hand a little squeeze, and his field flared against Prowl’s making him finally relax. 

“Interesting. Very interesting,” the red mech said, removing the jack carefully. “There are some changes that can be made, as Ratchet surmised, however I know of no mech that could completely remove this coding. It is too deep, and far too entrenched in your core coding for me to remove.” The scientist frowned, and Prowl could tell he did not like being thwarted. 

Jazz shifted, “Could you edit it enough to appease the law?” 

“I am afraid not. As long as he is bound to you, to any mech...I cannot fix this. I am sorry. I wish I could give you a more positive response. The emirate has become involved in the proceedings. He wants to hear of my results. As a favour to ratchet I can put him off, but I can only stall for so long.” 

“Thank you, Perceptor. We appreciate it. I just need enough time to locate Prowl’s brothers and we will be on our way,” Jazz said. 

“I will give you warning then when I do tell them. I will give you time enough to flee,” the scientist said, giving Jazz a little nod before leaving him alone with Prowl. 

“I am a problem, aren’t I, master?” 

“Hush, you are fine,” Jazz said and touched Prowl’s shoulder gently. “This is not your fault.” 

“It may not be my fault, master, but I am a burden. I’m sorry. Perhaps it would be best if you let them take me away,” the Praxian said in a tiny voice. “If---if you do could you please...please find my brothers?” 

“Prowl. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I will protect you. I WANT to protect you.”

“I don’t understand why, master. B-Blast Off would have handed me over, and maybe if wouldn’t be a bad thing. I understand that I am broken. I can’t seem to stop it though. I can’t change the way I’m coded, and I can’t stop myself from reacting.”

Jazz sat down on the berth beside Prowl, “No, you can’t change it, but don’t think for a moment I will abandon you. We’ll get through this, together.” 

“You are a good master,” Prowl whispered.

“Just call me Jazz, please,” he pat Prowl’s knee gently. “We should go then. Do you think you would be okay to wait in my lodgings?” 

“What if they come for me?” Prowl asked. 

That gave Jazz pause, “Then you will come with me, Prowl. I need to talk to Ratchet anyway. He did say that he wanted to check in on you every other sol.” 

“Yes, mas---Jazz. Thank you.”

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

“You are late,” Ratchet growled as they entered the medbay. “Get up on the berth, I want to give you a once over.”

Prowl didn’t protest he was helped onto the berth by Jazz, and the medic jacked in, checking through his systems. “I am going to put you into a medical stasis. Just relax.” 

Prowl’s optics dimmed, and he shuttered them, falling into recharge. “He’s running hot,” Ratchet frowned. “I told you the responses were hard wired. He runs hot. He had to interface to release the excess charge. It’s important.” 

“Ratchet...I can’t do that. It would be taking advantage. He doesn’t have a choice!” 

“Perhaps not, but it is medically necessary. He needs it badly to function correctly. If he does not get what he needs he will glitch. His programming will turn against him. It’s an insidious thing, Jazz.” 

“I will take care of it. I said I will take care of him. I’ve never skirted a responsibility.” 

“Just how do you plan on ‘taking care’ of it,” the medic asked, narrowing his optics. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Jaz said again shifting and looking uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. 

“How?” Ratchet asked again. 

“I’ll get him some interfacing toys. Frag! What else did you think I’m going to do, Ratchet. I’m not going to ‘face him. He can’t say no! I’m not going to take advantage of him like that,” Jazz said. He scowled at Ratchet, “No way.” He looked to Prowl’s insensate form. “I need to go to the command center and debrief, I’ve been getting pings all morning. Can I leave him here in the meantime?” 

“Yeah, sure. Get out of here kid. I have more work to do on him anyway.” 

Jazz didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried out the door and transformed as soon as he was clear. He knew that Prowl would at least be safe with Ratchet, but he still worried. 

He made his way to the command center, and passed through the security checks. “Captain’s waiting for you,” Masquerade said, greeting him as he strode through the precinct. “He wants the mech you rescued brought in for questioning.” 

“He’s still in the medics care,” Jazz said with a frown. He pinged Captain Slickshot’s door and wasn’t surprised that it slid open immediately. 

“Why didn’t you return immediately after the mission? Lightbar has been waiting to debrief you. Where is the mech they recovered. We need to do an evaluation to see what must be done with him.” 

“Why mech? What are you going to do?” Jazz snipped.

“You are not from this City-state. I know you do not understand our ways. They may seem harsh to you, but if he is not going to recover there is no reason to be wasting city resources.” 

“He’s going to be fine. I will make sure of that,” Jazz said. 

“If the coding cannot be removed it would be cruel to let him linger,” The Captain said. “it is our way.” 

Jazz gave him a curt nod, “As you will, sir. As you will.” 

“Go see Lightbar,” Slickshot said firmly. 

Jazz nodded, “Am I dismissed?” 

“Go.” 

Jazz turned, and instead of going to see Lightbar he headed to the temporary office he had been given. He shut the door and jacked into the system. He uploaded all of the information that had been gathered about Bluestreak and Smokescreen’s whereabouts and finally tucked it away in his subspace. If they wouldn't take care of things he would.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Barricade was easy to find. He had never bothered to move from the home that Prowl’s creators had kept. Jazz entered from an upstairs window, and looked about the house. It was neat, and tidy like a mech took great care in cleaning up. He moved up through the house up to the cramped attic, and was unsurprised when he found a youngling sleeping there. The small mech was grey, and curled up in a small ball on the hard floor. He didn’t even have a berth. A heavy collar sat around his neck, and Jazz moved close enough to touch it. Much to his relief is was a simple leather collar and not a slave collar like many of the slave had been outfitted with.

“Youngling?” he hissed, gently shaking the mechling, “Wake up.” 

The younglings optics flew open and he scuttled away. “Don’t hurt me! I didn’t do anything! I cleaned everything like I was supposed to! Please! Please! Please!” 

“Shhhh....I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a friend of your brother, Prowl. I’m going to take you to him. Would you like that?” 

The youngling nodded, “Prowl...is he okay?” 

“He’s safe, but I need you to come with me so we can see him. Do you know where your other brother is?” 

Bluestreak nodded hesitantly, “Barricade sold him to a bot named Swindle, but Swindle treats him nice. He adopted him. Sometimes I see him, and he’s always sad to see me. He says one day he will buy me. But he hasn’t yet, and he always leaves me.”

“Oh, you poor bitlet,” he offered his hand and Bluestreak took it. “Come then, Prowl is waiting for us, and then we are going to take a trip away from here. Would you like to see my home? I’m from Protihex. It’s a beautiful city full of music. Would you like to see that?” 

Bluestreak nodded, and let Jazz lead him back down the narrow stairs. 

Jazz frowned when he noticed Bluestreak limping, and the way one doorwing hung limply against his back. He picked the youngling up, “Hold on.” 

Bluestreak held on tightly as Jazz carried him out the doorway. He paused a moment, fishing a datapad from his subspace and left it on the table by the door. Later Barricade would read it and blanch at the message left. 

_”I’ve taken the youngling. Look for us and you will wish that it is one of Unicron’s minions that has you in their care. ~Lord Jazz._

Once they made the street he transformed, and Bluestreak climbed in. He sped away back towards the medical center. Bluestreak huddled in the seat and looked out the window as Praxus sped by. “Where are we going?” 

“To your brother.” 

“I’ve missed him so much. It’s been so long since he was taken away. Over a vorn. I was tiny then,” Bluestreak chattered. 

“You are tiny now,” Jazz said as he came to a halt and swung a door open. Bluestreak climbed out, and picked up Bluestreak again, carrying him inside. Bluestreak gawked openly as they moved to Ratchet’s medbay. 

“What took you so lo---” Ratchet started to say, then stopped. “Who is this? Bring him in. Let me look at that wing.” 

Jazz sat Bluestreak down on a medical berth. “He’s Prowl’s brother. One of his brothers. I think the other might be safe, but I need to make a few comm calls to check on that. Could you patch him up? We have a ways to travel.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“You were right. They aren’t going to let him live. I talked to the captain- he wants me to take him in. It’s not right. He doesn’t deserve that,” Jazz said with a sour look. 

“Hello, youngling. My name is Ratchet.” 

Bluestreak frowned, and wiggled on the berth, “Are you going to touch me? I don’t like that. Jazz said I would be safe. Are you going to do that thing?” 

“I’m just going to fix your injuries, bitlet, and check your coding. What thing are you talking about?” 

Bluestreak’s field flared with fear, “That horrible thing. It hurts. They put things in me, and it just hurts.” 

Jazz and Ratchet’s gaze met, and his hands clenched together tightly. “No. No one is going to do that to you again, bitty. You are safe.” Jazz’s armour flared. It explained so much. “You are safe here, and I will take you and your brother away from here.” 

“I will kill anyone if they try,” Ratchet added, “Now...let me look at that wing.” 

Jazz watched for a moment while Ratchet began to work on Bluestreak. Finally he turned away and went to find the comm unit. He had things to arrange.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

The first comm call was easy enough. He had enough connections that it wasn’t hard to find out what Swindle’s comm number was. The mech appeared on the comm looking confused for one moment before he recovered.

“Officer Jazz, to what do I owe the pleasure?” the oily mech asked with an easy smile.

“Put Smokescreen on the line.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me. Put him on the line now, or I will be paying you a visit,” Jazz snapped. 

Swindle blinked at him for a moment before he stepped away and a Praxian took his place. He looked healthy to Jazz’s relief. His armour was waxed to a shine, and looked as expensive as Jazz’s own upgrades. 

“You don’t know me...I’m Jazz. I was working on a case and I ended up---I have your brother. Both of your brothers. They are safe.” 

Smokescreen trembled, “Are they hurt? I know they are. That is a stupid question. What are you going to do with them?” 

“I’m taking them away from here. Are you---is he treating you okay? Do you need me to---” jazz asked hesitantly, and then looked relieved when Smokescreen shook his helm. 

“Swindle treats me well. Very well, actually. He adopted me.” 

“Good,” Jazz said, “Good. When we get to where we are going. I will let you know so you can visit them.” 

He disconnected the call and steeled himself for the next he had to make. He dialed the comm number, and nodded to the mech that answered, “Longshot, it is good to see you. Can you please tell my sire that I am coming home.” 

The mech on the other end smiled, “I will let him know, Lord Jazz. Safe journey.” 

“I hope so.”

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Ratchet was still working when Jazz came back. Bluestreak was in stasis. He looked tiny laid out on the berth. “He will need upgraded as soon as you can. His growth is already stunted. It looks like the mech that held him was trying to keep him a sparkling as long as possible. He’s missing his seals. All of them.”

Jazz shook, his armour clamping down hard. He was going to kill the mech. He drew his field in tight to his frame, and stepped close. “Is Prowl still in stasis?”

“He is recharging.” 

Jazz nodded, “How soon can you get Bluestreak ready to travel?” 

“Within the joor,” the medic said. 

Jazz nodded and headed to the private room where Prowl was still recharging. Prowl looked peaceful the way he was curled up on the berth. He sat down in the chair beside the berth and watched the mech, feeling reluctant to wake him. 

He wondered for a moment if it was really wise to get tangled up in this mess, but he knew to the bottom of his spark that he couldn't’ walk away.


	4. Retreat

“Come then, wake up, Prowler. We need to be going. Ratchet says you are clear. There is a transport waiting for us at the dock. They just pinged me.” 

“Where are we going?” Prowl asked, sitting up awkwardly. 

“Mmm...my home. Protihex. We can’t stay here. I don’t know if they are going to be sending enforcers after us or not,” Jazz said carefully. 

“What did you do, master?” 

“I brought you back a surprise. I think you will like it,” He said and took Prowl’s hand, leading him out of the room.

Bluestreak was sitting on a medberth, chatting animatedly to Ratchet when Prowl entered. He froze mid sentence as soon as he spotted Prowl, and scrambled down the berth, flinging himself at his brother. “Prowl! Prowl! I thought that I would never see you again! I thought that they had offlined you! I missed you so much. I was so scared for you, and Barricade was so horrible. He made me clean the house and other things. Bad things. Horrible, horrible bad things.” 

Prowl pushed him away, looking at the medical patches that dotted his frame. “Oh, Blue. I’m so glad you are here. I was so scared for you? Do you---do you know where Smokey is?” 

“He is safe. I’ve made sure of it,” Jazz said. “As lovely as this all is, we must go. I don’t know how much time we have.” 

Prowl stood, “I’m sorry, master.” 

Bluestreak’s doorwings flew up an angry “v”. “Why is he calling you that! Why is he calling you that!” 

“Now none of that, sparkling,” Ratchet chided. “Don’t reverse the work I put into you.” 

Bluestreak bristled, “Why did Prowl call you that?” 

“Because I imprinted on his coding when Blast Off died, bitlet. If I did not he would have offlined,” Jazz said as calmly as he could. “I’m sorry. Truely. I’m sorry. We will talk about it more when we get to where we are going. We need to leave if you value your brother’s life.” 

Bluestreak glared, “Lets go then. Prowl needs to be safe.” 

“Yes, he does,” Jazz agreed. “Thank you Ratchet. I am in your dept.” He smiled as he ushered the two Praxians out into the street. They sped across town, and surprisingly Prowl kept up easily, staying on Jazz’s bumper nearly the whole time. It was fortunate. They barely made it to the dock before the enforcers. For a klik Jazz thought he would have to shoot his way out, but somehow they made it into the transport before any shots were fired.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Prowl and Bluestreak recharged most of the journey, curled up together and clinging to one another. It made Jazz’s spark hurt. No mech should be treated like that. He sat in his own chair, watching over them, and ingnored the incessant pinging in his processor. Slickshot had been trying to reach him since the transport took off, but Jazz continued to ignore it. He was still getting a processor ache.

They had left Praxian airspace a joor ago, and Jazz had breathed a sigh of relief. He had been scared that they would be shot down. 

Somehow them made it, and his family was waiting for them on the flight deck. “Wake up, Prowl, we are here.” He gently picked up Bluestreak, holding him tightly as they stepped down the ramp. 

“Jazz,” Backbeat said, stepping forward to touch his shoulder. “Is this the mech you told us about?

“Yes, Sire. This is Prowl, my bonded to be and his brother, Bluestreak. They were....kidnapped, and there was an incident. Because it happened in Praxus...they...” he shook his helm. He didn’t have to feign grief. “The mech that kidnapped him put in slave coding. The medics couldn't’ remove it so they wanted to euthanize him. You must understand I couldn't’ allow that.” 

“Oh, you poor thing,” His creator cooed. “What a horrible thing to go through,” Rhapsody continued, “But at least you have brought our Jazz back to us.” 

Jazz ducked his helm, “I need to get them both to a medical facility. Prowl needs the programming removed, and they hurt Blue as well.” 

“Of course,” Rhapsody said, “We will get them the best care.”

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Jazz carried Bluestreak through the mansion, and to the wing where his suite was. The maids followed them in, removing dust covers and bringing in fresh meshes to all of the rooms in the suite. “Please finish the side room first. I would like to put Bluestreak to berth. He’s had a long day,” Jazz said firmly.

Prowl trailed behind, craning his neck, “You grew up here? This is much nicer that Blast Off’s home.” 

“I imagine it is. My sire is the Grand-Duke of Protihex. Only the Prince and King is higher.” 

“Oh,” Prowl said in surprise. He stood in the middle of the room, watching the maids, and laced his fingers together, looking nervous. 

Jazz moved into the smaller berthroom, carrying the recharging mechling. He pulled back the meshes, and gently tucked Bluestreak in. The little Praxian burrowed in the covers and made a little whimpering sound in his recharge. Jazz tucked a heat regulating mesh, and moved away, leaving the door to the room cracked. He had a feeling that Bluestreak would not sleep the whole cycle there. Not with the way he had clung to Prowl, as if he thought he would lose his brother again. 

He made a note to make inquiries about a psychiatrist for the little mechling, and to get him to a specialist. He deserved the best upgrades, and Jazz was determined to see to it. He would fix what he could and hope that they could mend the rest. 

When he came back into the room Prowl was still standing in the middle of the room, shoulders hunched. 

“Prowl? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, master.” 

Jazz circles around him, afraid to reach out and touch the mech. “You don’t look okay, Prowl. You look distressed.” 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Prowl whispered. 

“You don’t have to do anything, Prowler. Just relax, and let me take care of you,” Jazz finally said. 

Prowl reached out to him, wrapping his arms around Jazz’s middle and holding him fast. He buried his face against Jazz’s neck. “You’re such a good mech. I wish I could have met you under better circumstances. I wish...I wish I wasn’t used goods.” 

“Prowl. Don’t say that. Don’t even say that,” Jazz admonished, and wrapped his arms around the younger mech. “What happened was not your fault. It does not make you any less. Don’t ever think that.” 

“I’ll try,” Prowl whispered.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Dinner was an odd affair for Prowl. He still was not sure how to act around Jazz’s creators. They babbled on about bonding plans for Prowl and their creation, and Prowl did not know what to say about it or how to even take it. He wasn’t not what they thought he was and it disturbed him greatly that his master blithely lied about what Prowl was, and did not dissuade them at all from their planning.

“I don’t know, creator. That seems like an awfully big guest list. Prowl and I would like to keep it small. I hope you understand,” Jazz said carefully. “My intended has been through a lot. I don’t think he needs the stress of a big bonding ceremony.” 

“That is understandable,” Rhapsody said softly. “Poor spark has been through a lot. We are so glad to have you hear, dear,” he said, turning to Prowl. “We are so glad that you brought our dear sparkling back to us.” 

Prowl ducked his helm, feeling flustered, “Thank you. I’m glad to be here as well.” 

“Oh, we forgot to tell you,” Backbeat said, “Your brothers will be coming home soon. They want to meet the mech that brought you to our senses.” 

“I’m not sure I brought him to anything,” Prowl said in a tiny voice, his wings stiffened. He didn’t understand these mechs at all. And worse still he wasn’t even sure why Jazz was bothering with this falsehood. 

“Oh, don’t lie, my mech,” Jazz leaned in and gently pressed their lip-plates together. “You have influenced me in the most interesting ways, and as luck would have it...I am glad to be home. Very glad. I think though it is time that Prowl and I go rest. I’m sure Bluestreak is missing his brother.” 

Prowl’s doorwings fluttered hanging low against his back, a sure sign of distress if Jazz’s creators knew what to look for. They did not though, and only nodded. “Completely understandable,” Backbeat said. “Go rest. We have much to discuss in the morning.” 

Jazz lead Prowl away, putting an arm around his waist as he guided them back to their suite. “Why are you lying to them, master?” Prowl whispered. 

“Jazz. None of that 'master' thing. I'm not lying to them. I am going to bond with you. It will protect you. And you have---changed things. I couldn’t let them harm you.” 

“I’m not worth all of this bother, Ma---Jazz.” 

“Would you say the same about Bluestreak?” Jazz asked as he maneuvered Prowl through the halls and finally through the door to their rooms.

“He is my brother. He is dear to me. He is an innocent and did not deserve any of this,” Prowl finally said, his frame shaking. 

“And I can say the same for you, Prowler,” Jazz said. “And now I think it is time you rest. You are clearly distraught and it has been far too long of a day. I know my creators are trying, but they mean well.” 

“They seem very...nice,” Prowl said, and sat down on the couch, limbs drawn in. He looked up at Jazz plaintively. “What do you want from me, master?”

Jazz vented softly, “I want you to be free.”


	5. Bound

Sols later Prowl found himself in a familiar position, he sat on the berth and tried not to fidget as the mech that was jacked into his medical port sifted through his coding. It was far too much like the examination with Ratchet and Perceptor. He expected no good news, but Jazz's field pulsed with hope. It was an uncomfortable affair, even worse than th first time. Jazz said the mechs name was Lisper, and he was, supposedly, a brilliant programmer. Prowl was not entirely sure what Jazz thought he would accomplish. Ratchet had already said that the code was not removable, and Perceptor had echoed that opinion. It was better to just accept it and move on. 

“Well? What do you think?” Jazz asked impatiently. 

“We can remove it, but it will take time and patience. We will only be able to unravel a bit at a time. It is the only safe way to remove something do immured. It is doable. I will send for my team...with your permission, your lordship.” 

Jazz nodded, “Waste no time. I want this started as soon as possible. I want the coding gone.” 

Prowl listened, and tried to take it in. “Are you sure you want that, master? I don’t mind---”

“I am sure,” Jazz said. “I want you to be free, as I said. I will see to it.” 

“We will start next sol then,” Lisper said and bowed deeply, and took his leave from the room. 

Prowl watched him go, and stared at the door long after the mech left. His processor was still reeling by the chain of events. “Are you sure this is what you want...Jazz? Are you sure he can even do this? Ratchet and Perceptor said---they said that it couldn't be removed." His doorwings trembled. If he was truthful the thought of freedom terrified him. He barely remembered his life before and what that felt like. "I really don’t mind what is in my processor. You have been so kind to me. To my brother. There is no way we can ever repay you.” 

“You don’t need to repay me,” Jazz said. “Please don’t think that.” He reached out and touched Prowl's shoulder awkwardly, "Yes, Perceptor and Ratchet did say that, but I would trust Lister's assessment. We just need patience." 

Prowl sighed, “I don’t understand why you are doing this. You have greatly inconvenience yourself. You’ve lost your job. made yourself a fugitive.” 

“You are my responsibility,” Jazz said simply. “We need to talk to my creators about arranging the bonding ceremony. I don’t think that we can put it off any longer. We need something binding when the enforcer arrive.” 

“When? You are sure they will come then?” Prowl whispered. 

“They will. I’m sure they are gathering the necessary paperwork to have you extradited,” Jazz said. “I can’t allow that. they will execute you. They would do the same to Bluestreak. We cannot allow that.” 

“No, we cannot, master.” 

Jazz nodded, “I’m glad we agree. I will see if we can file all of the paperwork tonight. I’m sorry that I cannot give you a big ceremony, but I’m sure you can understand. we don’t have the time for such things.” 

“You don’t love me,” Prowl whispered. 

“No, I don’t. But bondings have been made with far less reason than we have.” 

“As you say, master,” Prowl said and looked down at his hands. “I would do anything to keep Bluestreak safe.” 

“I know you would. So would I. He is a good kid, and so are you.”

“I have not been a youngling for a very long time, master,” Prowl said solemnly, but he didn't think Jazz was listening.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Jazz was gone most of the next sol filing the paperwork for their coming bonding. Prowl’s programming buzzed with discontent. He was not meant to be an equal with his master. He was not a mech that was meant to be bound to anyone. He was a possession, a tool. His programming protested to the chain of events that lead him here, and it left him feeling miserable. He considered leaving, running back to Praxus and the fate they promised him there, but the programming rejected that as well. It left him feeling miserable.

“Prowl? Are you okay?” Bluestreak asked and peeped under the mesh that Prowl was hiding under, “Prowl?” 

“I’m fine,” Prowl whispered.

Bluestreak climbed under the mesh and curled up against his brother, “You don’t feel okay. You feel sad. I don't know why you would be sad. We are together, and we have Jazz now. I like him. He said he would adopt me and be like a new papa, and he would keep me safe. He will, won’t he?” 

“He will,” Prowl said. “He’s a good mech. He’s sacrificed much for us. We should both be thankful.” 

“Then why are you so sad?”

“I had always hoped---before the bad things happened---that I would find a mech to love me, and we would bond and have lots of sparklings. It’s foolish. We are getting bonded next sol, and he doesn’t love me. He will save me though. he will save you, and that is the most important thing,” Prowl said. “Maybe one day...when I’m not a broken thing he will at least let me carry.” 

“You aren’t broken,” Bluestreak whispered, holding on tightly. 

“I am, my love. It is what it is. I am a broken thing, and there is little hope it will ever be otherwise,” Prowl whispered. 

“I love you,” Bluestreak said, and hugged his brother more tightly. 

“I love you too, baby Blue. So much.”

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

“I’m sorry,” Prowl said as he walked beside Jazz the next sol. “I know this was not how you pictured your bonding sol. I know it is not how I pictured mine.”

Jazz took his hand as the walked into the dining hall. “It will be fine,” he whispered. 

The Priest and Jazz’s parents were waiting, looking expectantly for their entrance. Prowl knew that they were disappointed---horribly so---that they would not have the traditional bonding ceremony they had always dreamed their sparkling would have. There was no time to even call Jazz’s siblings back to the fold to witness it. Had things gone the way they were supposed to there would have been thousands of guests attending, days of feasting, and possibly the blessing of the Prime himself. 

It was not to be though. Jazz’s creators, and Bluestreak would be the only witnesses. Prowl felt horrible. He was ruining his master’s life. he was taking a position that he had no business occupying, and yet he had no choice. 

“You look beautiful,” Backbeat murmured, as they took their place. “Both of you.” He beamed, and it broke Prowl’s spark all over again. It was all a lie. He was a lie, and yet he could say nothing. 

The Priest began to intone the vows, and somehow Prowl managed to reply at the right times, but the words were a blur to his processor. He gripped Jazz’s hand tightly, until finally the priest stopped speaking, and Jazz pulled him close. He placed a jeweled cuff around Prowl’s wrist, magnetizing in place. 

“I’m sorry we were not able to pick one out on our own. This bonding gem was my great, great-grand carriers. I hope it is suitable enough,” Jazz said and leaned in giving Prowl a chaste kiss, and then it was over. The Priest left, and Jazz’s creators hugged him tightly welcoming him into the family. 

Prowl felt numb, and the numbness turned into terror as the doors were flung open.


	6. Broken

Prowl froze as Barricade stormed into the room followed by an troop of enforcers. He gripped Jazz’s hand hard, and in spite of himself he shook with fear as much as anger. “What are you doing here, uncle? Have you came to wish me well?” His optics flicked to the enforcers, and moved closer to his bonded as the black Praxian stomped further into the room. 

“We’ve come to take you both home,” Barricade snapped. “I don't’ have all day. Get your things, now.” 

A squeaking noise made Prowl turn in time to see Bluestreak hiding behind Prowl’s creators. “No! No! No! I’m not going back with you. Never. Jazz said he’s my new papa. You can’t make me go. I’m not going,” Bluestreak yelled. “I’m not going!” 

“No. You can’t,” Jazz said, stepping between them and pulling a pad from his subspace. “You have no authority to.” He moved close enough to hand the pad over to the closet of the enforcers. “Prowl is legally my bonded, and Bluestreak is my ward. It is signed by the Prime. Surely you understand that his authority supersedes anything that would come out of Praxus. You cannot take them. Not only are they my responsibility,” he said looking straight at Barricade. “But as of yesterday they are legal citizens of Protihex.” 

Barricade’s lips pinched together, and he lunged at Jazz, as he pulled a knife from his subspace. 

Jazz jumped back, the edge of the blade skittering across his plating and drawing energon. 

Backbeat and Rhapsody’s blades were out in a moment, “The guards will be here in moments,” Backbeat growled, “How dare you come into MY home and shed energon.” 

“How dare you sully the great hall of the House of the Dark Night,” Rhapsody said, and leveled his blade at Barricade, “You will pay for these crimes.” 

The enforcers has all frozen in alarm at the mech’s declarations, finally one came forward, and pulled Barricade forcibly back. 

“Let go of me,” Barricade growled, “He can’t have them. They are mine! MINE!” He lunged at Jazz again, looking surprised as Jazz moved to the side, and grabbed Barricade’s arm. He used the black Praxian’s own momentum to stab him. THe blade bit deep, tearing through lines and vital systems, and finally through the spark casing.

Jazz stepped back, mindless of the energon smearing his own frame, and watched Barricade slump to the floor. He kicked the other mech’s blade away, and leveled his optics to the enforcers. “You should leave.” 

“We are sorry, you-you’re Highnesses,” one of the enforcers said as they all backed out of the room leaving Barricade to the Protihexian’s gentle mercies. 

Barricade moaned on the floor, clutching at his chest. “You can’t do this. They are MINE!” 

Jazz nelt before him and pinched Barricade’s chin in his hand, “No, they are mine now. You must understand this, and I am going to make you pay dearly for why you have done to them. I’m not going to let you offline now. It is going to be slow, and it is going to be painful, and you are going to beg me to end it in the end.” 

Jazz looked back at his creators, “Please take my bonded, and his brother away. I think they have been through enough. Please.” 

“Let me stay, please,” Prowl said softly, he moved forward and put a hand on Jazz’s shoulder. “Please, my bonded.” 

Jazz jerked Barricade to his pedes and handed him over to the guards when they finally came into the room, “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.” 

“Let him,” Backbeat said, as he picked up Bluestreak, and made to leave the room, “He is a good and devoted mate, Jazz. If this one had wronged him he deserved to be the one to end him.” 

Jazz frowned at his creators, “No, it would not be beneficial. He should be not near that mech. I won’t allow it. I won’t. Go with them, Prowl,” he said, making it an order. 

Prowl shivered, optics flashing with hurt, “As you wish, my bonded.” 

Jazz regretted it nearly as soon as he said it, “I’m sorry. I don’t want him to hurt you anymore. I think Bluestreak needs you.” 

“He does,” Prowl whispered, and turned without a backwards glance. Jazz’s creators lead them from the room, leaving Jazz alone. 

“Frag it, what have I gotten myself into,” he growled at the empty room.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Prowl followed Backbeat and Rhapsody out of the hall. It was hard not to let his armour rattle with fear and distress, but somehow he managed to keep himself together. Bluestreak was handed over to him, and he fled to their rooms as soon as was polite, and went into Bluestreak’s room. He could not stand the pitying looks they gave them both. 

“What is he going to do to uncle Barricade?” Bluestreak whispered. 

“I don’t know, love. I really don’t know,” Prowl whispered back. He turned all of the lights up, and sat Bluestreak on the berth. He climbed up after him and pulled his brother into his arms, hugging him tightly.   
“I’m scared. What if he is like---like---” 

“Blastoff?” Bluestreak asked, “I don’t think so. Jazz seems nice. He just didn’t want you near uncle. I don’t want you near him either. He hurt me. He would hurt you too, Prowl.” 

Prowl pulled back the mesh blankets, and tucked them both in, curling around his brother protectively. “He commanded me. He used the coding.” 

“Prowl...he’s not like that mech. He just wants to protect us. We would both be offlined if it wasn’t for him. I’m young, but I’m not stupid. I know what they do to mechs like us in Praxus. They would offline us and think it is a mercy.” 

“Maybe it is,” Prowl whispered and his his faceplates against Bluestreak’s back. “It hurts to live.” 

“Please don’t say that. I need you,” Bluestreak pressed back against him, and held on tight to the arms holding onto him. “Please not when we have found each other again.” The little mech sighed, “I wish Smokey was with us. I miss him.” 

“I do too, Blue. So much. I think he is happy though, and that is something.” 

“What do you think Jazz will do with uncle?” Bluestreak said. 

“I don’t even want to think about it. Something horrible. Something he deserves,” Prowl winced at the way his voice went to static. “I don’t know, Blue. I really don’t know.” 

Prowl offlined his optics, and pulled the mech over their helms until they were hidden from sight. It felt safe like this, as if they were hidden from the world. He hummed a half forgotten lullaby, he didn’t remember the words, but he had memory caches of his carrier humming him the same song. Dim, precious memories that he kept close to his spark. Bluestreak relaxed against him, his engine settling into a happy little purr of contentment. Their fields melded, and Prowl gave a happy little sigh. 

“I love you, Blue.” 

“I love you, too,” the youngling chirped. He flared his field out again, and his flame relaxed for the first time in a long time. “Very much.” 

Bluestreak drifted into recharge eventually, but Prowl could not. He couldn't help but fret when he thought about what Jazz would ask of him. He tucked his brother in, careful not to wake him. 

He shut the door carefully and made his way to the berth he would share with Jazz. His armor clattered with fear as he climbed onto the berth and laid back, opening his panels for his master. His engine felt cold and his valve dry. He didn’t want Jazz to touch him like that, not yet, not now, but he knew it would be expected of him. 

Several joors passed before the door finally creaked open. Prowl felt stiff, and painfully aware as Jazz strolled in. The mech looked like like he had been in a battle. He was covered in energon, and looked exhausted. 

“Master?” 

Jazz quivered, “Don’t call me that, Prowl---what are you doing? Close your panels. I---Prowl---I’m not going to force you. Just....please close your panels.” 

“I thought you would want me, master. I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend you, master,” Prowl whispered, and his panels shut with an audible snap. 

“Don’t call me that, Prowl. It’s Jazz. Just Jazz. I’m not your master.” He shook his helm and moved towards the washwrack leaving a confused Praxian in his wake as the door shut behind him.


	7. Family

Prowl huddled against the backboard of the berth, making himself as small as possible. He was still huddled there when Jazz returned. The other mech frowned, “Prowl...” 

“You should have let them take me. You should have. You d-don’t want me. I’m just a burden for you,” Prowl babbled, and held on tightly to his legs, hugging the as close as he could. 

Jazz didn’t reply, but instead sat on the berth, untangled Prowl’s limbs and pulled him into his lap. He rocked the younger mech, petting his plating gently. “Don’t way that. You aren’t a burden. Not in the least.” 

“You are lying,” Prowl mumbled against his plating. “You don’t even want me in the berth. It makes the coding flare up terrible each time you refuse. It makes me want to hurt myself.” 

“It will get better, my bonded. You will see Lisper, and he will make you better. It may take time, but I will be here for you.” 

“You make it sound like I am terminal and dying of a rust infection or something,” Prowl muttered, and curled all the closer to Jazz. “I wish you wanted me. I bet you would feel nice.”

“You’re wrong. I do want you. Who wouldn't’ want you? You're beautiful, and kind.” He tilted Prowl’s helm up and kissed him gently. “I just wanted to wait until you were ready. Until you...could consent.” 

Prowl squirmed in Jazz’s arms, feeling the way the other mech’s frame heated up. His programming burned with pleasure at the thought of this mech taking him. He felt none of the shame that had always lingered when Blast Off took him. “Please. I need this.” 

Jazz pushed him down onto the berth, his hands moving in a knowing way, carefully finding all of Prowl’s sweet spots. Prowl moaned, and clutched at him, his fans roaring before long. 

“You are so beautiful,” Jazz smiled down at him stealing a kiss. “So perfect.” 

Prowl wiggled, doorwings moving against the berth. He let his panel snap open, the smell of heated lubricant suddenly wafted through the air. He expected Jazz to move above him, to enter him, but he didn’t. He hovered over Prowl for a moment before he began kissing down Prowl’s plating. 

Jazz placed a kiss right above Prowl’s array when there was a horrible racket. Prowl froze in confusion, until he recognized the voice, and that Bluestreak was hitting Jazz and yelling loudly, “Don’t hurt my brother! Don’t hurt him! I thought you were good! You lied! You lied!” 

Prowl let his panel snap back open, and grabbed ahold of Bluestreak. He pulled the panting youngling to him, “Stop. Calm down. He wasn’t hurting me, sweet spark. I’m fine.”

“I wouldn't hurt him, Blue.” 

Bluestreak glared and tried to wiggle out of Prowl’s embrace, “Liar. I saw you! You were going to hurt him!” 

“He’s not lying, sprocket. Jazz wouldn't’ hurt me. He saved us. Both of us. Barricade will never hurt us again,” Prowl said, and held on tightly to his brother. “He is my bonded, and he is your caretaker, and he will take care of us.” 

“But he was touching you in bad places,” Bluestreak said, and looked up at Prowl. “I saw it.” 

“They aren’t bad. Not when two adults want it. We need to bond, Blue. To make it official, so the enforcers can never take me away,” Prowl said patiently. 

“I wouldn’t hurt you or Prowl, Blue. Never. You are my family now,” Jazz said, scooting close cautiously. 

“You don’t even know us,” Blue said. 

“No, but I want to. I like what I’ve seen, and I just...can’t explain it. I’ve been drawn to your brother from the start. I couldn’t leave you to such a fate, bitty. Frag. I just couldn’t. You didn’t deserve that, and you didn’t deserve what was going to happen to you if they took you back to Praxus.”

“You don’t love him,” Bluestreak said flatly. 

“No, I don’t. But I hope to in time. I already care about you both. I don’t think that is such a far leap. It’s more than a lot of mechs in my class have. It’s more than most can hope for. I’m not so deluded to think it’s not. I’ve seen too many unhappy bondings to think otherwise. Yah get me?”

Bluestreak wiggled in Prowl’s embrace, “You want to love my brother then? Are you going to have sparklings? My creators loved each other very much. So much that they had three of us. Are you going to love him like that much? I guess it would be okay if you did. I just don’t like you touching him like that. Barricade touched me like that and it hurt. I cried most of the time and he would get so mad.” 

“Oh...Blue,” Prowl hugged him tightly. “I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. I wish I could have stopped him. I’m so, so sorry. I failed you so badly.” 

“You never failed me, Prowl. You came back for me, and that is what matters.” 

Prowl looked down at his brother, “I feel as though I have. I love you, brother.” 

“How about we all get some recharge then,” Jazz gave them both a lopsided smile. He moved, helping Prowl pull back the meshes. Bluestreak tucked his wings tight against his back, and snuggled down between them. Soon he was curled up, and humming contently as he fell into recharge. 

“Thank you for not getting mad at him,” Prowl whispered. 

“Nothing to get mad about, my mech. I wasn’t lying. You are my family now,” He reached over and took Prowl’s hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Prowl came out of recharge joors later, his hand still held in Jazz’s and Bluestreak still deep in recharge between them. He studied Jazz’s resting face and felt a tug at his spark. He hoped that he could come to love this mech. He already cared about him. 

Jazz’s optics lit up slowly, “You look content this sol.” 

“I am,” Prowl gave him a faint smile. “Will your creators be expecting us down for breakfast?” 

“No, not for several days. Although I’m sure they will be expecting Blue. You want me to com for some breakfast to be brought up to us?” 

“I would appreciate it,” he said, and gave the hand he was holding a queaze. “Maybe we can finish what we began last night?” Prowl said shyly.

“I would like that,” Jazz’s lips curled up. Jazz got up and hit the comm on the wall, “Please bring us up breakfast.” 

“It will be right up, Lord Jazz,” a disembodied voice replied.

They didn’t have to wait long, a slight femme knocked on the door and brought two cubes and several dishes filled with gelled and candied energon. 

“Their lordships asked me to bring down your charge, Lord Jazz. May I?”

Jazz smiled, “Of course, Swiftped. It’s nice to see your still with us. Bluestreak? Wake up. It is time to go down for breakfast.” 

The little mech gave him a suspicious look, and opticed the spreak already lying out. “Do I have to?” 

“I’m afraid so. My creators are waiting for you.” 

Bluestreak let out a heavy little sigh, “Be good then. If you hurt my brother I will hurt you back.” 

“I have no doubt of that,” Jazz said, and watched the maid usher the mechling from the room.


	8. Settling In

Bluestreak grumbled as he followed the made out of the room. He didn’t want to leave his brother alone. On one servo he really liked Jazz and was thankful that he had rescued them and continued to protect them. On the other he didn’t trust Jazz not to get all feely with Prowl...and that made him sick to his tank. 

“Master Bluestreak, are you okay?” Swift ped asked, as they walked down the hall. 

“I’m fine. Just worried about my brother.” 

“I’m sure he will be okay. It’s clear that Master Jazz dotes on him. They look so beautiful together. It’s like a fairytale!” 

Bluestreak vented loudly. Fairytales weren’t real. He had learned that long ago, and he didn’t want to see his brother hurt again. The maid led him down the stairs and to where Rhapsody and Backbeat were waiting. 

“Hello, sparkling,” Rhapsody said and offered his hand. 

“Hello,” Bluestreak said, unsure what to even call the mech. 

“We thought we could go into Polyhex and pick you up some toys since you did not bring anything with you,” Backbeat said warmly. “After we have had our morning cube,” he said and motioned to the cube sitting out for Bluestreak on the table.

Bluestreak wasn’t sure if he trusted that warmth. Sometimes Barricade would sound that way, and then he would hurt him again. “If you want,” he settled on, and pulled his field in tightly. “I would like that.” He drank the cube and drank it up quickly. He might as well get it over with.

“Such a little adult,” Backbeat smiled as the servants held the door open and they moved to the transport. “Your brother must be so proud of you.” 

“He loves me,” Bluestreak said. 

“And it is very clear that you love him back,” Rhapsody said as they settled into their seats. 

Bluestreak nodded, not trusting his voice. He didn’t understand why they were being so nice. “Why didn’t you give us to the enforcers?” he blurted out. 

“You are our responsibility now, bitlet. We would not do that. It would not be the honorable thing to do,” Rhapsody said. “We take care of our own, and you are our own now.” 

Bluestreak nodded, accepting it for what it was. Maybe he could trust these mechs, but he just wasn’t sure yet. The ride at least was not wrong. Stepping out into the city was overwhelming. Barricade had rarely took him out of the house. He was used to small, enclosed spaces, but the city the stepped into was tall, towering, and so open. He could see the sky up above. The stars glittered dimly, nearly blotted out by light of the city. 

He took Backbeat’s hand without any protest, far too afraid he would be lost in the milling crowd that they stepped into. The mechs around them gave them space though, and four mechs fell into step with them, their plating dark and oddly uniform. 

The first place they stopped at was a cheerily painted building, and inside was equally bright, the walls a cheery yellow, and partly obscured by shelving. Rows, upon rows of toys. Bluestreak’s optics widened at the sight. He had never seen some many, or such a variety. From brightly packaged games, to mesh robobears and protopuppies. It was overwhelming. 

“Do you see anything you would like?” Rhapsody asked. 

“I dont’ have any credits,” Bluestreak mumbled. 

“It’s fine. We will take care of it. Just pick out some things, sparkling,” Rhapsody said. They walked together through the aisles as Bluestreak picked out a few items, a stuffed robobear, and a strategy game that he thought Prowl might like. He was surprised to notice that Rhapsody directed the guardmechs to collect all of the other items that had grabbed Bluestreak’s optic as well. By the time they reached the register there was a considerable pile. Bluestreak stared in shock was their purchases were carted away back to the transport and they moved on again. 

The next place they went into had clothing, but not the weird things that Barricade liked to put him in. Instead it had capes of every colour that Bluestreak could imagine, and some he had no name for. 

“Hello, little mech, are your creators here to clothe you?” The kindly old mech said from behind the counter.

“We are his grand-creators,” Rhapsody said, “and we would like to get him fitted.” 

“Oh! Oh! Your highness,” the mech bowed deeply as he came around the counter. “Please let me take you to the fitting room. Brightmesh! Get up here and watch the counter.” 

A slim little femme not much older than Bluestreak slipped behind the counter, “Yes, master Surestitch.’ 

“Good, good,” the old mech said, “Come with me then. What would you like? Doorwing covers? The will take several sols to make. We have no patterns ready for them, I fear. Not many Praxians wander into the city.” 

“A few capes as well, something fashionable. Perhaps some scarves, and fingerless gloves. A capelet, and taberd for formal occasions...in my house colours of course,” Rhapsody said. 

Backbeat took Bluestreak’s hand and lead him into the back room. “You will look adorable. Meshthread is the best shop for this sort of thing, I promise.” 

Bluestreak only nodded, and was quiet as Surestitch had him stand on a stool and take all of his measurements. “Goodness, what a good little mech you are to stay still for so long,” the elderly mech praised. These should be done in three sols time. Would you like me to have them delivered to the manor, your highnesses?” 

“We would appreciate it,” Backbeat said with a warm smile. “Just charge it to our account, please. I will have our stewart contact you for payment.” 

“Thank you, your Highnesses. I do appreciate your business,” the old mech said as he showed them out, and then they were off to their next stop. 

Bluestreak decided he lited the treat shop best the let him pick out a whole box of sweets for later, and an iced energon cone to eat at the shop. They sat together in pleasant silence, the two adults fields washing over Bluestreak’s own full of care, and they never once asked prying questions about him or his brother. That meant the most.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

“Are you sure it was a good idea to send him away?” Prowl fretted and stared at the door. 

“I think it will do him some good,” Jazz said, and pulled Prowl close, stealing a kiss. “You are such a good brother, and I have no doubt that you will be a good creator when the time comes.” 

“You will let me raise the sparklings?” Prowl quivered. 

“We are partners in this,” Jazz said. 

Prowl moved close, and held on tightly to Jazz. “You are the best master. The best.” 

Jazz held onto him, field flaring with worry. “I am not your master. I am your mate, and...I think we will take you in for a treatment today. I’m sure Lisper will have things ready for you.” 

“I thought that we---that you were----I thought----” Prowl stammered. “Don’t you want me?” 

“Shhhh...of course I want you. I want you badly. I just do not want you to be unable to say no to me. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to me either. I want to get to know you. I want to know what you would have been like if that monster had not messed with your coding.” 

Prowl whined, and seemed to wilt, “I’m sorry, Ma--I’m sorry, Jazz. I didn’t mean to disappoint you.” 

Jazz hugged him tightly. “Oh, love. You are the furthest thing from a disappointment. I care for you already. Given time I’m sure I will be madly in love with you and I will never want you to leave my side.” 

“That doesn't sound like a bad thing,” Prowl whispered.

“It won’t be. We just need you to rest and heal.” 

“You make it sound so easy,” Prowl sighed. The conflicting programs made his processor ache. 

“It will be, sweetspark. It really will be. Just let me take care of things. I’ll even halve Lisper come to us. Just lay back and let me take care of you.” 

Prowl let Jazz tuck him back into the berth, and was halfway into recharge when Lisper was shown in nearly a joor later. 

It hurt when the mech moved through his processor, slowly unravelling the programming. The pain left him feeling drained and weak, but his processor felt clearer than it had in ages. 

He could still hear Jazz and Lisper talking, and it made his spark pound. 

“We need to wait a bit longer for the next session,” Lisper said. “We have to wait for his processor to settle. Otherwise we risk wiping things we do not want to, like his memories. I will stop by every ten sols to monitor his progress and make plans from there.” 

“That sounds like a good plan,” Jazz said slowly. “I don’t want to push him. I would also like you to check his brother over. Perhaps in your next visit.” 

“That would be acceptable,” he bowed deeply. “I will see you then.” 

When Lisper left Jazz crawled back into berth with Prowl and curled around him protectively. “It’s going to be okay, love. I will see to it,” he whispered, and finally Prowl slipped into recharge.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Bluestreak peaked into the berthroom and huffed before closing the door and standing out in the hall. “They are still in recharge.” He looked up at Backbeat and frowned, “Probably shouldn’t wake them up.” 

“No...we probably should not. I have an idea though. There is a room that I would like to show you. A room for you.” 

“But I have a room already! With a big bot sized berth.” 

“Well yes, but this is a play room just for you, sweet spark,” Backbeat said, and picked him up. Bluestreak felt like protesting for a bit. He was a BIG BOT! But Backbeat’s field felt so good and comforting. It brought back a dim recollection of Bluestreak’s creators. He held on, and laid his helm on Backbeat’s shoulder as he was carried up the stairs to the next floor, and brought to a room that was filled with so many toys. Nearly as many as there was in the toystore, and the ones he picked out were there as well, sitting in their neat bags ready to be put away.

Backbeat sat him down carefully. “Do you want to play?” 

There was so much. It was overwhelming. “I don't’ know how to.” 

“Oh, bitty. I will show you then,” He handed Bluestreak the mesh bear he had picked out, and pulled the games out of the box first. “I think you would like this one,” he said, and set up the board on the floor.

Bluestreak gave him a little smile, “Thank you.”


	9. Chapter 9

“This is going much more smoothly than I thought it would,” Lisper said as he combed through Prowl’s coding making careful adjustments, and in some cases deleting whole lines. 

Prowl closed his optics. It was painful and disorienting, but with each session he felt more, and more like himself. It was terrifying as much as it was freeing. He wanted to this to be over, but Lisper still maintained it could take a vorn, which was slightly better than his original assessment.

His recovery time between the sessions was shortening though. They had worked it up to twice a Quartex, and Lisper seemed to have high hopes that soon they would be able to work it up to three or even four times a quartex. 

The sessions still left him exhausted, sore, and berthridden for sols at a time. 

“You are doing so good,” Lisper said, and smiled down at him. “How are you feeling? Do you need me to stop?” 

“No. I can take it. Please.”

“Jazz will be here for you as soon as we are finished. Are you going to need pain blockers?” Lisper asked, distracting Prowl from the pain. 

“Yes,” Prowl gasped out, hands clenching as his own programming attacked him. 

“You know the worst is nearly over,” Lisper said. “We’ve gotten much farther in this amount of time than I thought we would.” 

Prowl nodded, even that took much out of him. He didn’t know how that mech could sift through his systems, and still chatter, but he did at times.

“We’ve got most of the core coding that was giving us issues. It will be a breeze after this. Like going on vacation,” Lisper added and pat Prowl on the shoulder.

Prowl let himself drift while Lisper continued to work. He was almost used to someone rifling through his systems by now that it was easy to ignore it and drift in and out of recharge as the mech worked. He fell into a true recharge at some point and we finally shaken awake by Jazz. He had not even felt Lisper disconnect. His neural paths felt scorched though when he came fully back to himself and moaned pitifully. 

“Come’on, Prowler,” Jazz said. “Lets get you into the berth.” His bonded helped him to stand, and they walked slowly out of the sitting room and into the berth. Jazz helped him get in, and tucked him in. As the mech was going to leave he grabbed his hand. 

“Stay with me? At least until I recharge?” Prowl said, his voice sounding raw. “Please.” 

Jazz gave a hum of assent, and curled up next to him pulling the mesh about them, and his arms around Prowl. “Lisper says you are doing well.” 

“So he says,” Prowl croaked. “I’m ready for him to be done. I’m ready for you to make me yours. It’s getting frustrating.”

Jazz sighed. it was the same old argument. “I want---” 

“Is it always about what you want?” Prowl asked. It wasn’t something he would have been able to question before. “You speak of a partnership, and yet it is always about you,” He mumbled. 

“I just want you to be sure,” Jazz said, flinching.

“I don’t know how I could be more sure. You are all I have. You and Bluestreak. It isn’t like I can go home.   
They will offline us if we do, and my place here will be in question until we bond. How could I be unsure when this is the only choice I have.” 

“You have a point,” Jazz said. “Fine.” 

“Fine? Really?” Prowl asked. “Really?” 

“Yes, really,” Jazz said, and turned Prowl’s helm to press a kiss against his lips. “When you feel up to it.” 

Prowl smiled faintly at his victory, “Recharge first.”

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Bluestreak stared at the mech that Rhapsody had brought into the nursery, and said was supposed to be his tutor. He didn’t trust the bot. He looked thin and shifty to Bluestreak. Nearly as much so as the psychiatrist they made him go see twice a decacycle. Both mechs were thin, and bespectacled, although this mech did not have Rung’s orange hue, but rather a sickly yellow one. 

“Now, Bluestreak. I have the syllabus lined out for us. We want to get you caught up so you can attend the academy. Your tests all came back very high, so I have no doubt that you are up to the task,” Quill rambled on, leaving Bluestreak in a haze. 

“This is boring,” the youngling piped up. “I don’t want to do this.” 

“Young sir, you must.” 

Bluestreak rolled his optics, not bothering to hide it. He wanted to be out. To see the gardens and Meshthread again. He really liked the little tailor. He had given Bluestreak a Meshbear when they had gone last time. It was Bluestreak’s new favourite in his fast growing collection of toys. “I want to go outside. It’s boring in here?” He hated to be away from his brother. He was so sick most of the time. Jazz explained it was because of the treatments, but when Bluestreak talked to Rung he never felt bad like that. 

He worried about his brother, and didn’t quite trust Jazz not to do bad things to him. Prowl said it was okay. It was what grown mechs did, but he just didn’t believe that for a klik. He’s done it, and it was horrible. He didn’t want his brother to feel that kind of pain, and he really did not like the pain that the treatments caused. It was horrible. Bluestreak was so worried, and they wanted him to sit here and take lessons like some kind of a youngling. He was a grown mech, he wanted to shout at them. But he did not. 

He went through the motions until he was finally freed from the clutches of Quill and tore through the halls until he could slip into Prowl and Jazz’s room. They were both in recharge. Prowl’s field felt sickly, and full of ill concealed pain. It made Bluestreak stop. Had all been well he would have flung himself at them and buried himself between them, but he could not bring himself to disturb his brother. Not like this. Not when he was in so much pain. It crawled along his own plating in sympathy. 

Jazz’s visor brightened, and the mech sat up, careful not to disturb Prowl. “Are you okay, Bluestreak? Do you want to take a recharge nap with us?” 

Bluestreak shook his helm and took a step back. “No. You are hurting my brother. Why are you hurting him. You are doing that---that thing with him!” 

“I’m not hurting him, Bluestreak. We have talked of this before. It is the treatments.” 

“Then stop them,” Bluestreak said shrilly. 

“He doesn’t want to. he wants to be free again,” Jazz said calmly. “You need to stop this, Bluestreak. Please have a little trust. Have I failed you yet? Have I hurt you in any way?” 

“No,” Bluestreak whispered, and moved close enough to Prowl to touch him. “He’s all I have left though, and I’m scared for him.” 

“No, he’s not. You are family, Blue. Surely you understand that by now. My creators would do anything for you, and so would I.” 

Bluestreak hunched into himself and trembled, “Really?” 

“I wouldn’t lie about something so important. Do you want to take a nap with us,” he asked again. “He recharges better when you are there?” 

“Yes,” Bluestreak whispered, and climbed into the berth, wiggling in between them. “I’m sorry.” 

“Shhh...It’s fine. You are just trying to protect Prowl. Now recharge, and perhaps when we awake we will have a grand adventure.”

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

When Bluestreak woke Prowl was already moving about. “Wake up, sleepy helm. Jazz is taking us on a pic-nic. Isn’t that sweet of him? We already have the basket ready. And I set out your cape for you. 

“You’re feeling better?”

“I am,” Prowl agreed. “Lisper left pain patches. It’s nearly completely taken it away for now, and I would like to enjoy that time with my two favorite mechs. Come along.” He offered Bluestreak his hand, and the mechling took it. 

“Where are we going to?” Bluestreak asked as his brother helped him from the berth, and Jazz came in whistling. 

“We are going to the park, little mech. I know it is not as spectacular at the Crystal gardens, but it is nice enough.” Jazz picked up the basket that Swiftped presented, and ushered the two Praxians out of the palace. 

The park Jazz took them to was a short walk beyond the gates. There were crystal growths dotting the field of rolling hills. The metaligrass was clipped short and scrunched under Bluestreak’s peds. In the center was a large fountain. Other mechlings played in the solvent, splashing one another carefree in a way Bluestreak had not been since his creators offlined. He looked at the fountain longingly for a moment, but helped Jazz and Prowl set out the mesh, and the food they had bought. 

Jazz fixed them all of sweet Vosian Fizzy, and set out a plate full of treats. Bluestreak picked out an electrum tartlette and ate it slowly. It was nice being out with his new family even if he still did not completely trust Jazz. He DID seem to make Prowl happy. His brother was more like himself. His old self. the way Bluestreak remembered him before all of the horrible things. He seemed sad, but not sad because of Jazz. Just sad for what had been taken from them, and Bluestreak felt that way too. But now, in that moment Prowl was smiling and taking a bonbon that Jazz offered him. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Jazz’s cheekplate, and his smile brightened. 

Bluestreak had seen that look on his parents faces when he was little. That bright-optic look of joy. “You love him,” he blurted out. 

Prowl stared back at Bluestreak, “He is my bonded.” 

“But---” 

Jazz looked equally as stunned as Bluestreak, and more so when Prowl stole another kiss, and jumped up. He took Bluestreak’s hand and ran with him to the fountain, urging Bluestreak to get into the solvent. They splashed about and played, but all the while Bluestreak’s spark was pounding in his chest.

Prowl finally sat on the edge of the fountain, feet dangling. “Oh, Bluestreak. Don’t look so glum. It’s not the end of the world.” 

“No. It’s not, but it’s dangerous. What if he hurts you?” Bluestreak hissed. 

“He won’t. He could never hurt me like I have been hurt already. Just be happy for me. Please. I’m happy. I've never...it’s not like I expect for him to feel the same way. It’s okay.” 

Bluestreak shook his helm, “No! That isn't right.” 

“It is the way of things, Blue. Just accept it and try to find happiness for yourself,” Prowl said. 

Bluestreak sat down beside him and leaned against him, “I’m just scared.” 

“I know you are, and that isn’t a bad thing, Blue,” Prowl said, putting an arm around him. “It’s not. I’m scared too. But we will make it. We will work through it. We will survive.” 

“We always do,” Bluestreak whispered.

“Always,” Prowl agreed.


	10. Chapter 10

A Vorn later...

Prowl held the datapad in his hands and shook, his doorwings clattering and trembling behind his back. He cycled his optics and read it a third time. “Is this real? I-is he really coming here?”

“Yes, he is. They are. Smokescreen and his...bonded.” Jazz frowned. “I’m glad you are excited about it. I had hoped you would be when they contacted me.” 

“I didn’t know they had bonded. It’s worrisome...considering how they came together.” 

“You mean the fact that he bought your brother. Yes. It is worrisome. Maybe I should have found a way to get him out too. I feel like I failed you in that.” 

Prow sat the pad on Jazz’s desk, and enfolded the mech in his arms. It was feeling more natural to turn to him physically as time went by. The sessions with Lisper had grown more grueling as they went, but from what the mech said they has a servo-full to go. They were down to the last dregs of code, and soon this nightmare would be over, and he would be able to live as normal a life as he had ever hoped to. “Jazz...before they get here...do you think we could join sparks. We have put it off for a very long time. Your creators have been asking questions. As much as they dote on Bluestreak they want grandsparklings. Your grandsparklings. And I...I want that too.” 

Jazz stilled in his arms, “The coding---” 

“Is just a trace. It’s not controlling me when I say I want you. I want to be yours in more than just name. Please.” Prowl hugged Jazz tightly and nuzzled his neck. “Let me do this for you. Unless---unless you don’t want me.” 

“You are my bonded, of course I want you. I’ve wanted you for a very long time. I just don’t want you to regret it,” Jazz said, and nuzzled into him. “Wanted you so bad, for so long. It was so hard to control myself.” 

Prowl smiled against his plating, “You know I have felt the same.” 

Jazz reached back, and stroked his wings. “You have an appointment with Rung this sol. We should probably get going, love. Bluestreak as well.” 

Prowl had not forgotten their appointment, but it was not something he was looking forward to anymore than he would to seeing Lisper. “I will get Bluestreak ready then,” Prowl said. He gave Jazz a brittle smile, and walked away quickly to Bluestreak’s room. The little mech was not there. 

Prowl finally found him fast asleep in the playroom nearly hidden under a mound of stuffed mesh animals. “Sweet spark, what are you doing?” 

He knelt down and carefully lifted the mesh animals that were hiding the little mechs frame. He was bigger than when they first came here. The upgrades more than doubling his frame size, but he was still small for his age. The medic did not think he would ever be a very big mech, not with how his growth was stunted so early in his short life. “Blue?” 

“Don’t wanna go,” he said stubbornly and burrowed back down into the pile of toys. 

“Oh, sweetspark, come now.” He picked the toys away until Bluestreak was visible, and glaring at him. “I have good news. We are going to have a visitor in a few sols. A visitor I think you would like to see very much.” 

Bluestreak grunted, and gave his brother a glare. “Don’t want to see anyone.” 

“Even Smokescreen?” 

Bluestreak’s wings shot up. “Really? When? How? He’s coming to see us?” He tackled Prowl knocking them both to the floor. 

“Yes, he is really coming to see you,” Jazz said from the doorway, stifling a laugh. “He will be here in three sols. In the meantime, we need to leave, little mech. I don’t believe Rung would like us being late for your appointments.” 

“Don’t wanna.” 

“Mmmm...I know you don’t, spite. But if yer good we can go see Meshthread, and maybe get some iced energon.” Jazz smiled, but Bluestreak was not having any of it. The little mech scowled right back. 

“Don’t wanna,” Bluestreak persisted. 

“I know yah don’t, little mech,” Jazz said. “But it would be mean to make Rung wait on us. And we both know that Meshthread would be excited to see you.” 

Bluestreak gave a long suffering sigh. He wiggled out of Prowl’s grasp and brushed himself off. “Lets go then. Papa Rhapsody said we would have energon treats for lunch and I don’t want to miss it.” 

Jazz rolled his optics, “Sure, my mech. If you say so.” 

“I do,” said Bluestreak. He helped Prowl of the floor, and took his hand. “Can we drive there?” 

“Oh, little mech. You aren’t road ready yet,” Jazz said. “But...you may ride in my altmode instead of us taking the transport.” 

Bluestreak hissed. “I’m a big mech.” 

“You are,” Prowl said, “But Jazz is right. It would not be safe. Your next upgrade will be soon, and then you can drive anywhere with us.” 

“Fine. Can we go then?” Bluestreak said, and crossed his arms over his chestplates. He stomped out of the room not waiting for them. 

Jazz and Prowl exchanged a look. “He’s getting a bit too big for his plating,” Jazz said, more amused than anything. 

“I know.” Prowl sighed. “He’s just having growing pains. It’s never easy at that age. He’s growing up so quickly.” 

Jazz smiled, “He is.” 

“I worry for him,” Prowl said. He took Jazz’s hand in his own and lead him out the door. They found Bluestreak waiting downstairs for them. They went out, transforming into their alt-forms. Jazz sung his door open, and Bluestreak climbed in. He fastened himself into the passenger seat and they were off.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Bluestreak kicked his peds, and looked down at them. The seat was better suited for an adult, not a half-grown youngling. Resentment seethed through his field and he didn’t bother to hide it.

“What would you like to talk about today, Bluestreak?” Rung asked. His tone was even. It was always even and calm. If anything it irritated Bluestreak. 

“I’m tired of everyone treating me like I’m helpless. Like I’m a little sparkling. I’m not. I’m all grown up. I’m the biggest mech.” 

“You have indeed grown a lot since you began seeing me,” Rung agreed. “I do not believe that you are finished growing though. Have you tried to explain to them your feelings.” 

“Why? They wouldn’t listen.” 

“They might surprise you. I have talked to both of your caretakers, and I know Prowl very well indeed. I think they would understand you and act accordingly. If they did not I would be very surprised indeed,” Rung said. 

Bluestreak scowled. “I’d be very surprised if they did.” 

“What makes you say that? What is your reasoning?” Rung asked. 

“Because they always have. Prowl thinks I’m just a big sparkling, and that I’m not grown up at all.” 

“Then you should talk to them,” Rung said. “Be firm about it.” 

Bluestreak nodded. “I guess I can try. I just want them to treat me like I am not a kid. i’m not. I’ve seen things. I’ve seen things worse than some adults.” 

“Indeed you have,” Rung agreed. “You are brave, Bluestreak. Don’t forget that.” 

“I won’t, sir,” Bluestreak said. His wings perked up. “Oh, and I did get good news. My other brother will be visiting. Smokescreen. I’ve told you about him. He stayed in Praxus. I’m so worried about him. So very worried. I hope he is alright. I’m also a bit scared. I haven’t seen him since I was very tiny. Before the bad things happened.”

“That is good news indeed,” Rung said. 

“It’s the best news. Prowl is so happy about it. I can tell. His field felt so nice when he talked about it. So excited.” 

“And how does that make you feel?” 

Bluestreak canted his helm to the side. “Good. I like it when Prowl is happy. He---He is a lot these days. Sometimes I don't’ know how to feel about that. I think---I think he loves Jazz. And sometimes that just makes me so mad. I guess it shouldn't. Jazz has been really good to us, and I love his creators. They treat me like...like I’m their family.”

“Why do you feel that way?” Rung asked. 

“I don’t know. I don’t want him to take Prowl away from me. He’s my brother. He’s //mine/,” Bluestreak said. 

“Prowl is his own mech,” Rung said.

“I know. But he’s my brother. I love him. I don’t want to be taken away from him again. He’s all I have.” 

“You just said that Jazz’s parents treat you like family? And what about Jazz? Does he treat you well too?” Rung asked. 

Bluestreak vented heavily. “Yeah. I guess. They treat me well.” 

“Then why would you think that they would take Prowl away from you?” 

Bluestreak’s doorwings flittered. “I don’t know.” 

“Think on it, and we will discuss it in our next session.” 

Bluestreak nodded, and hopped out of the chair. “I will. Thank you Rung. Do you want me to send Prowl in?” 

“Please do,” Rung said kindly, and opened the door for Bluestreak. 

He watched Prowl take his place behind the door, and sat down next to Jazz in the waiting room. 

“How’d it go, sprocket?” 

Bluestreak wrinkled his nasal ridge. “I’m not a sprocket. I’m a mech. I’m not a sparkling.” 

“But you are, Bluestreak. You are a youngling,” Jazz said. 

“Am not! I am not! Stop it! Stop treating me like I’m helpless,” Bluestreak said.

“Oh, Blue. I don’t think that at all. You are one of the strongest mechs I know. You are brave, and strong, and we all love you very much.” 

Bluestreak inched closer, and finally hugged Jazz tightly. “Really?” 

“I would never lie to you, mech.”

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Smokescreen paced the room. He could not still his doorwings. They fluttered constantly, and even Swindle’s cool presence on the other side of the bond could not calm his nerves. “Is everything settled? Are we going? Are we really going? Will I get to see them?”

Swindle laughed, and looked up from the missive, “It is all settled. Passage is booked for all three of us. Onslaught has business in the capital as well. Do you not, my friend?” 

Onslaught grunted, “I do. I have many things to see to.” 

“See,” Swindle grinned. “It’s going to be great, and hopefully lucrative. Very, very lucrative.” 

Smokescreen laughed, “You have such a one track processor.” 

“Oh, I operate on so many tracks, my dear sweet bondmate,” Swindle smirked, and caught Smokescreen’s hand as he moved passed him, pulling the Praxian to him, and settling him into his lap. He squeezed his hips, and pulled him close before his hands began to wander. 

Smokescreen closed his optics, and leaned into the touch. Swindle knew just where to touch him. His wings were pinched, fondled until he was on the brink of overload. Swindle prolonged it, played him like a well loved instrument. 

Onslaught sat back in his seat, and watched, but that only made Smokescreen run hotter. He liked having an audience. 

He panted as Swindle pushed him down onto the couch. The mech groped his interface panel, and he let it snap open, already dripping. He closed his optics, moaning when he felt Swindle push in. He thrust his hips back, taking all of Swindle into him. 

“Please, please. Need you.” 

“Shhh...I’ll take care of you,” Swindle said. “I always do. Don’t I?” 

“Yes,” Smokescreen moaned. He rocked into each thrust, driving his own charge higher and higher until he was screaming overload. 

“You should let me have a turn,” Onslaught rumbled. 

“You know I’m not going to do that,” Swindle said, not losing rhythm. 

Smokescreen heard them as if through a haze. He clutched at the mesh below him. 

“I would never do that. He’s my bondmate.”

“Everything has a price,” Onslaught said.”Don’t you say that all the time? Everything has a price, Swindle. What’s yours?” 

“He’s not for sale, Onslaught. Frag. Just frag you. You can’t have what is mine.” 

“I’m not a possession,” Smokescreen gasped out. He bared his denta in a growl and glared at Onslaught. “I am my own mech.” 

“He has such spirit,” Onslaught laughed. 

“You ever touch me, and I will show you spirit. I will cut your spike off.” 

Swindle laughed above him, “Don’t doubt his word for a moment.”

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

Prowl sat under the shade of a metaloak, and slowly ate the copper flavoured iced energon that Jazz had bought him. From his seat he could see Bluestreak talking animatedly with Meshthread just inside the store. Prowl smiled into his glass. It was good to see Bluestreak so happy. The youngling loved to visit the shop, and would probably go there every day if time would allow.

Jazz bumped against him, leaning their helms together. “He looks happy.” 

“He does,” Prowl said. He reached out and took Jazz’s hand in his own. 

“He’s growing up so fast. He said he didn’t want to be treated like a sparkling any more. I think that was what he spoke to Rung about. He was wound up when he came out of the appointment.” 

“He’s been very frustrated lately,” Prowl whispered. 

“I know. It’s his age. He is in such a hurry to grow up. I remember how it was,” Jazz leaned in, and stole a bite of Prowl’s ice with his spoon. “I remember it very well.” Jazz laughed, “I was a horrible brat.” 

Prowl snickered, and leaned against him. “You, a brat? I cannot imagine.” 

Jazz’s lips curled into an amused smile. He bumped back against Prowl and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You know...I’m glad I found you.”

“Mmmmm..you are glad for the disruption in your life?” Prowl asked, and stole a pit of ice from Jazz’s cup. 

“No...that isn’t what I mean. This isn’t coming out right.” Jazz huffed. “Mech. No. I. Frag it. I’m trying to tell you I love you. I love you. Frag. I’m glad I found you both in Praxus. I’m glad you came here to live with me. I’m just...I’m just glad you are here.” 

Prowl’s spark pounded in his chest. It pounded so hard it felt like it was going to leap out and run away. “Jazz...” 

“It’s fine. You don’t have to---I mean---it’s fine if you don’t---” 

Prowl put his spoon and his cup, setting his dish on the bench, and watch Jazz do the same before taking Jazz’s hand in his own. “I do though. You’ve done so much for me. For us. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted us to join our sparks. Jazz. I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt-  
> REQ: G1 – Jazz/Prowl – saved from misery trope, h/c, romance, poss. dark themes  
> (this req also mentions prostitution and noncon-y themes but they aren’t essential parts)  
> There are quite a few fics around where Jazz is a servant/slave/prostitute down on his luck for one reason or another and Prowl, often in his position as enforcer, meets him and eventually saves him from the poor excuse for a life he’s been living. I absolutely love this particular trope, but I would like to see a reversal of the roles in the drama.
> 
> So, I want Prowl having a really crappy life situation. Maybe he’s a badly neglected or abused slave or servant? Maybe his creators died and he’s been left to care for his sibling(s) and for reasons of Plot Device can’t get a decent job so he’s forced to prostitute himself? Maybe he was framed for a crime he didn’t commit and ended up on the wrong/shady side of the law because of that? Or something else entirely. What I’m looking for is a situation he intensely dislikes but cannot get out of by himself.
> 
> Then along comes Jazz as a saving angel. It can be something as simple as offering Prowl a job when no-one else would, or high drama with Jazz as an undercover cop working to bring down a slave ring where Prowl is one of the victims. Or anything in between. What I want to see is Prowl’s initial frustration, helplessness and emotional pain and then his journey towards a better life thanks to Jazz. And no matter how bumpy the ride I would of course like them to eventually fall for each other and end up a pair.
> 
> Bonus: If you go for the slave/prostitute angle I would love it if the first time Jazz sees Prowl the latter is bound or chained to something, preferably in an uncomfortable or humiliating way (because angsty physical helplessness is a huge kink of mine). Even better if he walks in on an ongoing abuse session and puts an end to it.
> 
> http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/13205.html?thread=14988181#t14988181


End file.
